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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29209326">you came out of the blue (or was it blue-gray?)</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/cptshellhead/pseuds/cptshellhead'>cptshellhead</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Marvel, Marvel's Avengers (Video Game)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Fluff and Angst, Happy Ending, M/M, Mutual Pining, Pining, do i have to tag swearing? there's swearing, honestly the fluff and angst are mild it's just a lot of fucking pining, mild action and trauma is involved, pre a-day, the other avengers are kinda there in the bg but it's mostly stevetony, they eat tacos and they need to kiss or something like that</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-05</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-05</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 00:47:55</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>6,554</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29209326</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/cptshellhead/pseuds/cptshellhead</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>He never thinks he'd fish a centenarian out of the ice, but he does.</p><p>He doesn't want to be worried about a super-soldier, but he is. </p><p>He never asks to fall in love with Steve Rogers, but he falls.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Steve Rogers/Tony Stark</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>107</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>you came out of the blue (or was it blue-gray?)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>uh… pining <em>*jazz hands*</em> </p><p>just some MA stevetony development prior to a-day. also uhhhh no beta, so i'm sorry if there's any errors. my eyes are blurring together with words.</p><p>title is a lyric from EDEN's song, <em>good morning</em></p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p><em> Unbelievable </em> . Unbelievable is the first thought that crosses Tony Stark's mind as he stands before <em> the </em> Captain America, frozen in ice and perfectly intact. All this time, over seventy years later, and it's Steve Rogers in the flesh and bone, somehow in a cryo stasis. On one hand, Tony is amazed, and on the other, he thinks he's screwed.</p><p> </p><p>Royally fucked, actually.</p><p> </p><p>And he doesn’t even know why. </p><p> </p><p>(Maybe it’s the media. He hates dealing with the media. After all the flashing lights and cameras and microphones, he <em> still </em> despises tabloids and headlines.)</p><p> </p><p>They manage to transport Steve back for the tower. Thor is just as curious as any other, and Nat thinks this is all a little insane, but she's been around long enough to know that this isn't necessarily the craziest thing she's ever experienced. Tony… Tony can only think about the dozens of Captain America posters on his wall growing up, the way his dear old dad barely ever shut up about one of his greatest creations. Tony's not sure he's ever going to live up to Captain America's legacy when he can barely fit the shoes of the Stark legacy himself. Even from the grave, Howard Stark makes him feel sick.</p><p> </p><p>At least he can stick it to him now that <em> he's </em>got Steve Rogers. </p><p> </p><p>Tony's pacing back and forth down the hallway of the infirmary where Steve is currently resting. They aren't sure when he's going to wake up, and Tony teeters on that bridge of uncertainty, too. What the hell would he even say to him when he wakes up? <em> If </em> he wakes up? 'Hey, Cap, welcome to the twenty-first century!'? No, Christ, that’s too casual. Might as well just give the man a heart attack himself. God, he needs to sleep. He hasn't slept in… huh, seventy-something hours, or maybe even longer, and the longer he stays awake, the more his brain's mental capacity begins to degrade. Tony wonders if he should head back to his tower to get some rest, but he's also, weirdly enough, concerned that he's going to miss out on Steve's sleeping beauty awakening. Tony cannot possibly sleep through that and be the last person to know. Fuck no. Absolutely not.</p><p> </p><p>No one can tell <em> him </em>no, anyway. He's Tony Stark. Iron Man. He helps fund SHIELD operations. Besides, it's not as if they've told him he can't stay in the room or anything…</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Right? </em>
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</p><p>Tony wakes up with a start, a kick to his foot. “Jesus, haven't even had <em> coffee </em>yet—” </p><p> </p><p>The crick in his neck might as well make him feel like he's woken up from being blackout drunk, because every part of his body actually despises the way he's slept in this God-awful chair.</p><p> </p><p>“Who are you?”</p><p> </p><p>Tony blinks as he sits up. Oh.</p><p> </p><p>Oh, <em> shit. </em></p><p> </p><p>“Who—who am <em> I? </em> I think we're going to need a history lesson here of our own, but one thing's clear, Mr. <em> Rogers </em> . I need you to take it easy and, you know, actually not freak out the second I tell you the truth that I maybe am not authorized to tell you. But I'm not exactly keen on following orders. Which, uh, sorry if that leaves a bad first impression since you're <em> Captain America </em>, but—”</p><p> </p><p>Tony's always had a tendency to ramble. Not all his words are technically necessary to get his point across, but his mouth runs a mile a minute, same as his brain, and together it proves to be lethally boring, entertaining, or annoying. Or all three, if that's possible.</p><p> </p><p>It's actually quite hard for him to focus without any caffeine in his body, but he forces himself to do this. After all, he <em> did </em> decide to sleep next to him as if he's some kind of lover waiting for their partner to wake up and—</p><p> </p><p>Okay, the analogy is getting out of hand and <em> wow, Steve Rogers' eyes are so blue. </em></p><p> </p><p>He clears his throat before he starts his long-winded attempt at clearing things up. “Long story short, but you've been— there's no way to gently break it to you, as much as I'd like to do that— asleep for seventy years. Or, more specifically, you were frozen… frozen asleep? For seventy years,” Tony explains, waving his hands around vaguely as if that'll visually represent any kind of timeline. “I know this probably sounds crazy—”</p><p> </p><p>“— because it <em> does </em> sound crazy, Mister...—”</p><p> </p><p>“— <em> Stark </em>. Tony Stark. Yes, it does sound crazy, but I'm not lying. You want proof, I can give you proof.”</p><p> </p><p>When Tony rubs his fingers over his eyes, pinches the bridge of his nose, and then takes a look at Steve's face again, whose arms are braced on the edge of the bed as he perches, he can tell that there's something swimming in his brain. Tony's all too afraid to even ask.</p><p> </p><p>It's then, when Steve exhales a heavy breath, as if he's been holding it for those seventy years, and tilts his head back as if he’ll find an answer in the ceiling.</p><p> </p><p>“Not sure the ceiling's all that interesting to look at when <em> I'm </em> here.”</p><p> </p><p>That gets a slight chuckle out him, and Tony can't help but feel a little bit proud about that one.</p><p> </p><p>Steve drops his head back down and pushes himself off the edge of the bed. “You're… Tony Stark. Like… you know…”</p><p> </p><p>“Howard Stark? Yeah. He was my dad. You two knew each other. He never shut up about you.” Which really, <em> really </em> drove Tony up the wall some days. Other days? He had wished he could've been as great as Captain America.</p><p> </p><p>There's a window nearby, and it seems to only be sunset… or is it sunrise? Either way, faint light is filtering in and Steve starts to walk over, as if he'd never been frozen for seventy years to begin with. </p><p> </p><p>“I knew him, yes. Talked a few times and he helped outfit and arm me, but I wouldn't say we were that close,” Steve explains as he brushes the curtain aside to take a look out the window.</p><p> </p><p>Tony wonders what the look on Steve's face is right about now. He can’t really see much of a proper reflection on the glass. Well, he’s <em> probably </em>taking in the fact that it's no longer the 1940s, that he's woken up in an entirely new era with new technology and new people. Tony can only assume there’s loneliness. Confusion. Disgust? Who knows.</p><p> </p><p>“Well, uh… he sure did love you. Always wanted to be able to create more of… you, I guess? I don't know, honestly. Think he lost his mind a little bit with old age.” He wrinkles his nose and stands up for himself, and kicks his right leg out a few times where it's decidedly <em> fallen asleep </em> on him. The numbness stings, but it eventually fades and he rounds the corner, leans his thigh against the end of the infirmary bed. “You alright?”</p><p> </p><p>There's a few moments of silence. Tony doesn't find it that uncomfortable, but he gathers that maybe Steve needs a little bit of… time alone? So he starts to offer, “I can leave if you want—”</p><p> </p><p>Steve's hand drops from holding the curtain aside and turns around, head shaking lightly. “No. No, Mr. Stark, feel free to stay.”</p><p> </p><p>His eyes are kind and somehow <em> warm </em>, despite unmentioned trauma behind closed eyes, in his heart, and his bones. There is melancholy in the way Steve speaks; Tony hears it and knows it all too well. Tony wonders what it's like to wake up seventy years in the future with absolutely nothing but his name and his memories of what feel like yesterday.</p><p> </p><p>Tony knows what it's like to have no one.</p><p> </p><p>But this? This feels different.</p><p> </p><p>With a swallow, he manages to crack a smile, as smug as it might seem where it's a little more of a curl on one side of the mouth. “My friends call me Tony.”</p><p>
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</p><p>Steve adjusts… surprisingly well.</p><p> </p><p>Or Tony thinks he does, anyway.</p><p> </p><p>He takes him to some art galleries and museums before any SHIELD onboarding, and with the way Steve’s eyes light up underneath the baseball cap he’s got on like a little kid in a candy store, he feels like he’s actually doing something <em> right </em>. Tony has a shitty disguise, which is really just a pair of sweatpants and a blazer, so honestly, the most half-assed attempt at fashion he could ever describe, but as far as he’s concerned, he just wants the centenarian to feel like he has some place in this world. Tony knows what it’s like to feel out of place as someone who lives in the present, not to mention someone from the past.</p><p> </p><p>Their talks on these little trips are fairly surface-level. Plenty of innocuous history and art lessons on top of one too many innuendos, but it’s enjoyable. It just turns out Steve's not much of a personal-feelings type of guy, but Tony gets that. Every time he looks at himself in the mirror, he isn't always happy to see his reflection. And even when he is, he's able to pinpoint all flaws and imperfections that remind him that he's terribly human (<em> is it so terrible to be human? </em> ). If he'd been the one to fly some ship into the cold water, he sure would've died. Not even the Iron Man suit would’ve saved him from that, but Tony knows better than to compare scenarios. Regardless of what they’ve both been through, it’s <em> a lot. </em></p><p> </p><p>With Steve now around, the world raves about the ‘<em> Revival of the Great Captain America </em> ,’ and it all sounds so incredibly <em> stupid </em> and cheesy and Tony hates it, but he lets it be because there’s no way of avoiding the way the media picks it up. He’s familiar with the way this kind of shit works, and all he can do is try to steer the golden boy himself away from all that news given the two different perspectives that there is, but it’s difficult. There’s television, computers, <em> newspapers </em>, and Steve finds a kind of comfort in newspapers, he’s realized. He adapts fairly quickly to technology, though.</p><p> </p><p>While Barton is still making fun of Steve over some tech, Tony’s already handing him the tablet brief about a new mission.</p><p> </p><p>And that’s a thing now. They’re the <em> Avengers </em> . Officially formed, backed by SHIELD, and led by… well, him and Steve? Or just Steve. It’s not often <em> he </em> relinquishes control or power and bows down to anyone else because he prefers to be the kind of guy in control, but the thing is, even if Steve doesn’t want to be a leader, he’s still built like one. Everyone follows his orders without a second thought, and Steve’s even able to throw himself right into action as if he hadn’t just woken up from the ‘40s, and Tony’s honestly <em> concerned </em>.</p><p> </p><p>Tony is never concerned. Usually. But this time, he’s fucking <em> concerned </em>.</p><p> </p><p>They barely gave the guy some time to breathe. Tony has been vocal about it, actually, but Steve just gives him this <em> glare </em>, and not quite the staggering type, either. Just a ‘it’s okay Tony, stand down, I want to do this.’</p><p> </p><p>The others also agree with him, but Steve seems fairly adamant about getting involved, so they all stand down like the little toy soldiers they are. God, Tony hates being considered a soldier.</p><p> </p><p>With the way the tower has now been turned into an Avengers hub, everybody filters in and out as they please, and they always come together when the alarm goes off. He hands them all an Avengers ID card, which grants them access to essentially every facility and their fully-customized bedrooms. Tony keeps his lab on lock, though, because he’s not the type of guy who wants <em> anyone </em> trickling through when it’s his safe space away from everything and everyone, but sometimes Steve comes down, and <em> speak of the devil— </em></p><p> </p><p>The door slides open and Tony spins around with his chair, Iron Man helmet on his head before it retracts back itself and falls into a faceplate, right into his hands.</p><p> </p><p>“<em> Tony. </em>” His voice sounds stern, but the look on his face doesn’t seem that way.</p><p> </p><p>He grips the faceplate and points at him with it as if he’s giving him a finger-gun. “Heeey, Rogers. What’s up?”</p><p> </p><p>The <em> one </em> person he ends up letting into his lab? Steve Rogers himself.</p><p> </p><p>Honestly, Tony can’t even begin to explain how it happened. It just did. One day Steve wanted to know about the work Tony was doing, and given the fact he’d been showing him around the twenty-first century as it was, he’d decided to let Steve pop on by. <em> Then </em> at some point, Steve started asking to come by more often, and Tony hadn’t really minded the company for once, so he told JARVIS to open the doors whenever Steve came around.</p><p> </p><p>Suddenly, one day, Tony’s granting him access with both a passcode and his Avengers ID card. Christ, he can’t even remember what his brain had been thinking then, but so far? Well, he doesn’t regret it. So that counts for something.</p><p> </p><p>“JARVIS told me it’s been a while since you’ve taken a break,” he says, and his hands are now on his hips and, <em> uh oh </em>, Tony knows what’s about to happen. “So, time to take a break.”</p><p> </p><p>“You know, you can’t just barge in here and say ‘take a break’ and expect I’ll follow after you like a little puppy.”</p><p> </p><p>As if his mind had been read and his stomach starts to growl…</p><p> </p><p>“We got cheeseburgers out in the kitchen.”</p><p> </p><p>He slowly breaks into a grin, chucking the faceplate behind him onto the table. It’s fine. He knows it’ll be fine. “Now why didn’t you start with <em> that? </em>”</p><p> </p><p>Later. His concern can come later.</p><p>
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</p><p>Later comes sooner than expected, because Steve bristles by Tony in the kitchen with a muttered <em> good morning </em> before disappearing off for his run. Tony wouldn’t be so concerned if not for the fact that Steve has <em> never </em> muttered his good mornings to Tony like <em> that </em>.</p><p> </p><p>Thing is, Tony knows his morning run route. Is that weird? He doesn’t mean to be a stalker. He just happens to know because Steve mentioned it offhandedly once during a team lunch, and ever since, Tony’s kept that little bit of knowledge in the back of his mind.</p><p> </p><p>He finishes his third cup of coffee and heads toward the park, picking up some breakfast tacos on his way.</p><p> </p><p>Finding a seat, he just waits. And waits. Doesn’t have to wait that long when it’s undoubtedly Steve that’s inching closer, so Tony stands up and waves at him, and he’s pretty sure Steve could’ve run him <em> over </em> with the speed he’s running at, but thank God he stops like stepping on car brakes.</p><p> </p><p>His chest is heaving, and forgive a man if he’s staring at how <em> tight </em> that shirt is on him. </p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Did his biceps get bigger? </em>
</p><p> </p><p>“Tony?”</p><p> </p><p>He blinks through the fog of whatever the hell that’d been, clears his throat and smiles. “Hey, hoped to catch you. Was afraid I’d have come by too late, but clearly not. Anyway, you want a breakfast taco?” Tony lifts up the paper bag he’s got. “Don’t tell me no. You’re running on an empty stomach, and at this point, I think you might’ve already run three laps anyway.”</p><p> </p><p>It’s almost like approaching a stray dog. Steve looks like he’s about to flee, and his mouth opens and closes and opens again. “You’re… ridiculous, and generous. Did you know that?”</p><p> </p><p>If not for the fact he’s wearing sunglasses (he has absolutely <em> no </em> reason to be wearing them at this time of the day), his eyes would’ve betrayed him. Genuine compliments don’t come his way too often, and he knows Steve means well with his words. Tony’s hesitance in responding clearly becomes noticeable, because Steve is just <em> smiling </em> at him as if catching him off guard is a prize of some kind.</p><p> </p><p>“Sure, yeah, whatever,” Tony manages to utter, but he lifts the bag up higher in front of Steve’s face. “So is that a yes to tacos?”</p><p> </p><p>When Steve actually chuckles, Tony knows he’s won this time.</p><p> </p><p>They sit down on the bench together, and Tony tries to ignore the way their knees are just pressing against each other. He eats his breakfast taco and watches as other people pass by. It’s funny how Steve can actually get away with no disguise. There’s nothing that really distinguishes him that much from other buff white dudes out there, and Tony’s jealous.</p><p> </p><p>After a while of on and off small talk, Tony figures he has to get into the deep stuff. And by God, is he terrified. He’s not usually the one offering, because he’s bad. He’s fucked up, he’s made terrible mistakes that feel irreconcilable, and he thinks he simply isn’t as <em> good </em> as any of the others, and they all have their dirty histories.</p><p> </p><p>So he finally gathers the damn courage— days like this he wonders if he should stop this sober streak he’s on— and finally speaks.</p><p> </p><p>“You know uh— I’m bad. Bad at talking about a lot of things, I mean. I know I’m probably the <em> last </em> person you’d ever want to talk to about your um. Issues? Or fears? I don’t know, I don’t wanna label anything for you, but I’ve been told to be a pretty good <em> listener </em> .” Can really only name a few people on one hand who’d actually say that, <em> but… </em> He sighs and wipes his hands with a napkin. What’s that feeling in the pit of his stomach? It churns uncomfortably, it’s definitely <em> not </em> the tacos (though he wants to blame it), and he feels like he’s stepping over boundaries. They’re...teammates. Friends, maybe. Tony doesn’t know. He’s got a skewed perspective when it comes to relationships of any kind. “If that’s worth anything,” he adds on quietly at the end, wondering if he just sounds like a complete idiot.</p><p> </p><p>Silence grows between them, and Tony wonders if he’s just made a mistake, but he’s not <em> good at any of this </em>, he’s trying, and he knows it’s really none of his business, but at some point, Tony had become concerned about Steve spending so much time in the gym alone, punching bags as if his life depended on it. And his spite-filled morning runs.</p><p> </p><p>It’s not pity, either. Just… empathy.</p><p> </p><p>Steve finishes his taco.</p><p> </p><p><em> Then </em> Steve breaks the silence with a quiet, “I appreciate it, Tony.” He looks… well, he doesn’t look uncomfortable, but there’s a furrow between his brows that’s all too familiar now. That’s his thinking face. “I do, trust me. I guess I’m uh—” Steve sighs and this time when his arms crosses over his chest, it’s a defensive mechanism. A shield itself. “— it’s complicated. I don’t think you’d understand.”</p><p> </p><p>“Try me.”</p><p> </p><p>“You didn’t wake up seventy years into the future. It’s…”</p><p> </p><p>“Hard? Yeah, I can tell.”</p><p> </p><p>Although Steve’s quick to adapt and learn, it doesn’t make it any easier on the brain, or more specifically, matters of the heart.</p><p> </p><p>“Hard, yeah, but also…” The lines deepen between Steve’s brows, and Tony watches as the way sunlight casts shadows and highlights over each dip and line of Steve’s <em> perfect damn face </em>, and—— “I feel like I should feel more guilt.”</p><p> </p><p>That’s definitely not what Tony’s expecting. “Why more guilt?”</p><p> </p><p>He can almost <em> feel </em> the breath leaving Steve’s body, as if he’s bracing for impact. </p><p> </p><p>“Honestly? I’ve moved on. Or <em> am </em> moving on. Do you know how terrifying that is? To just… let it all go. All I’ve ever known, just to become history. That’s… that’s something, Tony. I don’t know how to describe it, but…” He clears his throat and shakes his head. “I can’t shake the feeling that I should feel more <em> guilt </em> over this. I shouldn’t be letting them all go like that. Not that fast.”</p><p> </p><p>“Hate to break it to you, but we’re living history right now, minute by minute,” Tony says, and somehow, he’s now able to find the words. Whether they’re the right words or not are debatable, but at least he’s trying. “And you’re right, I didn’t wake up seventy years in the future where I’ve left behind loved ones and a life that’s all I’ve ever known. I won’t compare to that. But I can say that you don’t need to feel guilty. I think they’d feel bad if they could see you now, feeling stuck between the past and a future; because, for what it’s worth, I think they’d want you to have a future. A <em> happy </em> one.”</p><p> </p><p>A few moments pass between them, and Tony’s kind of zoned out of their environment. No birds, no idle chatter from passer-bys, nothing. </p><p> </p><p>Just <em> him </em>.</p><p> </p><p>That’s when he feels his heart drop out of his chest, arc reactor falling at Steve’s feet.</p><p> </p><p>It’s been a slow process, but he’s—— <em> he’s in love. </em> In love with Steve Rogers. They’ve known each other for just a few months, and <em> yet </em>.</p><p> </p><p>Whenever one of them pushes, the other one pulls. </p><p> </p><p>“You think so?”</p><p> </p><p>Despite the way such a realization washes over him once, twice, and three times, he’s still able to find some words on that graveyard of a tongue. “Hey, what do I know? I’m no pep-talk giver like you are.”</p><p> </p><p>When Steve chuckles, a smile curling at his lips, Tony feels his heart being gently placed back into the hole in his chest.</p><p> </p><p>“You know, you’d be surprised, Tony.”</p><p>
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</p><p>There’s a shift between them. It’s unspoken, and neither of them seem to plan on addressing it, but it seems to be <em> comfortable </em>. Steve looks a little lighter now, and though there are still days that he’s noticeably quiet, he’s allowing himself the chance to grow and move on.</p><p> </p><p>Tony never really talks about being kidnapped, figures that history is better left to be buried under the rest of his memories, but he opens up to Steve one day, who’s been reading in the lab. Just goes on to talk about Yinsen, about the sudden clarity he’d achieved in that moment of rebirth. It’s not often he recalls painful history like that, but after carrying so much of the weight and guilt that he has for so long, it’s a relief to wear his heart on his sleeve just this once for someone else aside from Rhodey. To bare his humanity, open and raw and feeling, as a respite from the constant repression. </p><p> </p><p>This time, he sets his love gently at Steve’s feet. </p><p> </p><p>He hopes Steve will tread softly.</p><p>
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</p><p>When the Red Skull attacks for the first time with his new Cabal, everyone turns their head toward Steve.</p><p> </p><p>Hawkeye is busy shooting his arrows across the street next to Widow. Steve’s shouting instructions at each of them while clearing out civilians.</p><p> </p><p>They think the fight’s going in their favour for the most part, but debris is falling from the sky where Hulk is scraping his way off the side of office buildings. Red Skull is shooting fucking <em>laser beams</em> at Tony in the sky, and though he swiftly dodges his way around most shots, he skims a couple of close hits. Sick of beating around the bush in a physical fight, he flies directly toward the Red Skull. It’s messy at the angle he’s flown in at, and he makes some stupid quip along the lines of “<em>Up for a swim, Red Baldie?</em>” because it’s Tony Stark.</p><p> </p><p>He feels the impact of something before he <em> does </em> make actual impact with the Red Skull. His systems flash red, a glaringly obvious hole in the side of his suit as JARVIS flickers in and out. His side <em> burns </em>, but when Tony takes a plunge into the ocean, he can already feel the cold water seep into his skin and bones through both the hole and the slashes to his armour that leave him and all systems exposed. Funny. It soothes over the burn at his side, though he has a feeling it’s not doing him any favours in reality. Tony can’t swim deftly in the suit, so he has to get out at some point, but he’s roughly fighting Red Skull in the water. Gravity and water and a heavy metal suit don’t exactly cooperate, but when he manages to finally get one fluid punch against Red Skull’s face with his gauntlet, it knocks him out.</p><p> </p><p>A shiver runs up his spine and he shudders. He’s tired and he’s cold and this darkness reminds him of a time in a cave, of his head in a bag shoved into a tub of water. Tony thinks he’s going to keep sinking, and when he turns his head, movement languid, restricted, he can’t quite see clearly toward the surface. He tries to deactivate the suit so he can get out, but electricity and water don’t work well together. He’s reaching up, slow and unsteady as he presses into the exact notches on his helmet, pulling it off in time—</p><p> </p><p>— Tony always thinks the suit will end up being his grave, his coffin. His limbs feel like lead, a dead weight, but he’s suddenly rising instead of sinking, and he sees a dark fabric in view (Thor, it must be Thor), pulling him through the depths of the ocean.</p><p> </p><p>The loud <em> clunk </em> of his armour hits the pavement, and Tony coughs up some water, blinking and shivering in his own suit. All of a sudden Steve’s there, hitting all the correct notches to get Tony out of his armour (of course, only <em> Steve </em> knows), helping him sit up. His touch is like a summer day, the sun washing warmth over him.</p><p> </p><p>“Not— not a… a fan of <em> that </em>,” Tony mumbles, stuttering over his words as the chills continue to run through his body. Hair plastered to his forehead, he remembers the pain in his side and winces, glances down at the burnt flesh and torn undersuit.</p><p> </p><p>“Let’s get you warmed up and to a medic,” Steve says, and it’s not loud, but it’s gentle and mostly just spoken directly to <em> him </em>, in his ear.</p><p> </p><p>With his help, Tony stands up. It’s the first time he catches a look at Steve’s face since being pulled out of the water, and what he sees?</p><p> </p><p>Tony’s fairly certain it’s fear.</p><p>
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</p><p>“You sure gave us a scare there,” he says, leaning back in his chair next to Tony’s bed.</p><p> </p><p>Tony cracks a sly little smile, an attempt to lighten the mood. “Why, you didn’t think you’d get rid of me that easily, did you, Cap?”</p><p> </p><p>It’s easy, the way they go back and forth. They banter, and it’s not often Tony’s able to find someone who can keep up with him. Someone who doesn’t get bored of him.</p><p> </p><p>“No, but it doesn’t mean we can’t… that <em> I </em> can’t worry.”</p><p> </p><p>“Nothing to worry about.”</p><p> </p><p>“Say that when you’re not the one in the hospital bed.”</p><p> </p><p>“Not exactly a hospital.”</p><p> </p><p>“You know what I mean. C’mon.”</p><p> </p><p>He backs off then, but the smile still lingers on his face before he turns, glances out the window.  “Is this the same room from when we first fished you out?”</p><p> </p><p>Steve’s brows raise, and when he takes a look around, he lets out a quiet laugh. “You know, it sure does seem like it.”</p><p> </p><p>“All started here.”</p><p> </p><p>“I’m glad it did.”</p><p> </p><p>Tony— well, he’s Tony. Every little thing that Steve happens to say makes him wonder what exactly he’s done to deserve him. To have someone support him, to build him up, to make him a better man.</p><p> </p><p>“Hey—”</p><p> </p><p>“You gave me a <em> home </em>, Tony,” Steve interrupts, and he doesn’t even apologize like he usually does. Instead, he sits up straight as if pushing his shoulders back makes him look more confident. “You did. And that was a close call. Closer than I would’ve liked. If I had lost you there—”</p><p> </p><p>He should be shocked by that.</p><p> </p><p>(He is.</p><p> </p><p>He doesn’t let himself think about it.)</p><p> </p><p>“— but you <em> didn’t. </em> I’m right here, Steve. Fine and dandy.”</p><p> </p><p>He doesn’t know what to say aside from that, to deflect, to reassure that he’s perfectly fine, that it’s just another day of being an Avenger.</p><p> </p><p>Steve sighs, scratches at the nape of his neck. Visibly, his shoulders drop. “I’m just saying. You’re part of that home. I’ve lost a lot already and I’m not sure I could lose you, too.”</p><p> </p><p>Hearing words like that is a punch to the gut. Tony has never been anybody’s home. Never thought he could be. In fact, Tony doesn’t even know what a home is. He’s always struggled with the concept of home. Is it four walls? Someone’s arms? Loved ones? It all feels abstract and a far reach for someone like him. But then comes Steve. Steve fucking Rogers with his kind blue eyes and his righteous spiels about freedom and fairness. Steve Rogers with his warm touch and his generous offers of breakfasts and lunches and dinner.</p><p> </p><p>That day in the park, Tony realized he’d loved Steve.</p><p> </p><p>Today, he feels that love burn bright again.</p><p>
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</p><p>The longer he keeps his verbal questions of love on the tip of his tongue, the more he wonders if Steve’s just playing some kind of game with him. They still never <em> say </em> anything, but they act as if they’re together, or Nat and Clint say that anyway (JARVIS likes to gossip). Bruce just shrugs with a small smile on his face, and Tony knows, he knows, that something’s up. That everyone somehow <em> knows </em> something that he doesn’t, and Tony likes to know everything, damn it.</p><p> </p><p>Tony corners Steve one day in the lounge. No one’s around since Nat and Clint have been on some mission together, and Bruce is in his own little lab.</p><p> </p><p>Though, ‘cornering’ might sound a bit too much. More like Tony catches him at the right time.</p><p> </p><p>He shoves a hand out, palm facing Steve as if to stop him from going anywhere. “Okay, I gotta get something off my chest before I combust, because it’s been bothering me all day. For months.”</p><p> </p><p>Just as he’s about to say more, another voice pops in.</p><p> </p><p>“— oh, hey guys, fancy seeing you here.”</p><p> </p><p>When he sees her and Barton stroll in, he’s certain he could personally punch a hole in the wall. <em> It’s technically my tower </em>, he thinks as an immediate retort, but he bites the tip of his tongue anyway. He’d been sure that they weren’t supposed to be home early, and Tony curses the Gods and above that he can’t get a damn moment to speak to Steve without extra company. Maybe he should convince him to go out for tacos again.</p><p>
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</p><p>They’re having an Avengers movie night, because that’s a thing they do. And then later, they play some other kinds of games, like Monopoly and Jenga, and they are all <em> terribly </em> competitive and sore losers and sometimes cheaters. One time, they played cards the old-fashioned way because it’d been Steve’s turn to choose the game for the night. Safe to say, no one had won because no one knew what the hell they were doing <em> except </em> Steve. Tony, who had thought he’d gotten a hang of it, even thought he’d win with his hand of cards, but when Steve laid his cards clean, he was pretty sure he could punch Steve’s perfect teeth.</p><p> </p><p>With his mouth.</p><p> </p><p>Unfortunately for Tony, he hasn’t slept in… well, a while. Halfway into the movie at 8PM and he’s already dozing off. The dialogue turns into white noise and it doesn’t help that the soundtrack starts to play, all soft and gentle. Everything becomes a blur, and suddenly, it’s silence.</p><p> </p><p>When he finally starts to stir, it’s already dark, and Tony becomes acutely aware of the fact he’d fallen asleep. He nearly jolts up from where he is, but proceeds to find out that Steve is still next to him, asleep, and Tony had fallen asleep <em> against Steve </em>. </p><p> </p><p>And Steve didn’t say anything. Didn’t wake him, or move him. Just… let him sleep?</p><p> </p><p>There’s a blanket over the both of them, and when he takes a look around, there’s not a single soul save the two of them. Then again, it’s nearly pitch black, so it’s not like he can see anyone at all. He leans his head back against the couch, inhales a deep breath, and breathes it out slow and steady. Tony tilts his head to the side, lets his eyes adjust to the darkness, but to also look at Steve. Steve peacefully sleeping. Though he can’t quite make out his features in the dark, he can <em> hear </em> him breathing.</p><p> </p><p>It’s tempting to wake him up, to say that he should head to bed so he doesn’t wake up with a crick in his neck, but he feels like that’s not even a concern. The man’s a super-soldier. A crick in a neck is probably gone in twenty minutes.</p><p> </p><p>He can see it behind his own shut eyes, the few strands of hair that tend to fall down against Steve’s forehead, and Tony’s tempted to brush them back with the assumption that they’re there, but he isn’t sure if Steve’s that light of a sleeper or not, so he opts not to just because he wants to stave off any awkward conversation. He does need to talk to Steve, and this is the <em> ideal </em> moment, if not for the fact he’s asleep. With another sigh, Tony rubs at his eyes and angles his head back to stare up into darkness.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> What am I going to do? </em>
</p><p> </p><p>As if his thoughts are spoken aloud, Steve shifts, grunts, and then a quiet, yet hoarse voice utters, “Tony?”</p><p> </p><p><em> Why now? Of all times? </em> “Uh… hey, Cap. Was just uh… gonna wake you up. You fell asleep.”</p><p> </p><p>“Pretty sure you fell asleep first.”</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah, about that… <em> sorry. </em> Didn’t mean to do that and ruin movie night, if it did. I wouldn’t know. I wasn’t awake.” Sometimes when he’s nervous, he starts to ramble. Overcompensates. “Just didn’t want to suddenly wake you up with a scare—”</p><p> </p><p>“Tony, it’s okay.” If it weren’t so dark, Tony could probably see a smile on his face. A dumb, stupid smile that always makes him feel a little warmer on the inside. “I didn’t want to wake <em> you </em>, either. Considered getting you to bed, but Clint insisted to finish the movie first and have some dinner.”</p><p> </p><p>“And then…?”</p><p> </p><p>“And then I fell asleep.”</p><p> </p><p>“Good work.”</p><p> </p><p>“What can I say?” His voice is a little clearer now, but the rumble of laughter that comes next is just a reminder he quite enjoys Steve’s laughter. “We all have our moments.”</p><p> </p><p>He has a feeling that Clint telling Steve to at least finish the movie is his way of meddling when he started to fucking drool on Steve’s shoulder.</p><p> </p><p>“Right, yeah. Hey, JARVIS? Lights.”</p><p> </p><p>In a blink of an eye, the lights fade in, and he can finally see Steve’s face properly, and they’re just… <em> staring </em> at each other. Tony’s right, there are a few tufts of blond hair that have dropped to his forehead, and he most certainly does not have frequent and recurring thoughts of running his hand through Steve’s hair. And oh, of course it would be a lie if he says his eyes don’t briefly flicker down to Steve’s lips—</p><p> </p><p>No. No. <em> No. Not right now. </em></p><p> </p><p>“Tony?”</p><p> </p><p>Steve speaks his name like a prayer.</p><p> </p><p>“Tony, I’m going to kiss you.”</p><p> </p><p>He must’ve said something between that moment and when Steve’s lips make contact with his, but he doesn’t know what he said, must’ve been some muttered <em> yes </em> or a nod or grunt of acknowledgement (or approval?), but Steve’s suddenly <em> kissing him </em>, and his brain has short-circuited. After his moment of being a perfectly still statue, he reciprocates with ease, hands awkward like any first kiss, but fingers settle to curl into the soft fabric of Steve’s shirt. He hasn’t kissed anyone in quite some time, and the way one of Steve’s hands cups his jaw, touch soft and reverent, leaves him craving for more. It’s here, with him, where he begins to learn how to love again (or maybe he’s never stopped loving at all).</p><p> </p><p>At some point, Steve had picked up Tony’s love, cradled it gently in his hands. Whispered his words of love in a thousand different ways that had not been ‘I love you.’ Promised to take care of him, to see the best in him, and to encourage him to be the best he could be. Tony, so blinded by his own love and his fear, has left him floating around in No Man’s Land, but Steve, like always, pulls him out of uncertain territory and into something warm and familiar.</p><p> </p><p>They’ve danced this dance a hundred times, and they’ll likely dance it a hundred more.</p><p> </p><p>They stay there, together, and a world that has always seemed a little too loud quiets down. He loathes for it to end, but when he pulls apart, he doesn’t go far. Steve always seems to find a way to reassure him that he’s never too far. Never gone. Tony places his trust in Steve.</p><p> </p><p>His fingers loosen their grip on Steve’s shirt. Steadies his hand on his waist entirely, leans his forehead against Steve’s. “That…”</p><p> </p><p>“Not that bad, I hope?” Steve chimes in, hopeful and sheepish, but clearly sounding <em> somewhat </em> proud of himself for taking that step.</p><p> </p><p>It’s hard to not smile at that, to not be pleased by such a turn of events. While he may not have been able to take that jump himself, it seems at least Steve has the gumption to take action.</p><p> </p><p>“No, not that bad at all.”</p><p> </p><p>Tony can make an a hundred-slide slide powerpoint with names of all the people that have betrayed him and left him to dust. He knows what it’s like to be laying alone in bed, feeling like he’s both drowning and flying thirty-thousand feet in the air. He’s no stranger to ghosts and skeletons in his closet or the blood on his hands. Most would much rather flee before they have to handle all the monsters under his bed and the shadows outside his window.</p><p> </p><p>None of it scares Steve, apparently. He’s witnessed far more and knows the kind of misery and sorrow that follows. As a man out of history, he knows how to be stuck between the present and past. For Tony, it’s a matter of building the future, of stumbling too far ahead. Flying miles ahead and leaving others behind.</p><p> </p><p>Between them, it’s a balance. The man out of time and the man ahead of his time. Two stories of rebirth and evolution.</p><p> </p><p>Still, it all makes no sense to him.</p><p> </p><p>A voice in his head echoes, “Occam’s razor.” There’s truly only one reason, and though Tony originally doubted Steve’s potential of loving him, that doubt is fading.</p><p> </p><p>His stomach begins to complain. It’s what he gets for falling asleep without having had a proper meal in twelve hours. “You know, I’m pretty hungry.”</p><p> </p><p>Steve tilts his head toward the kitchen. “There’s some leftover tacos.” The way he speaks, fond and considerate of those damn tacos.</p><p> </p><p>“A man after my heart.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>hope you enjoyed! </p><p>thanks for reading and i'd appreciate any comments or kudos. </p><p>you can find me on tumblr or twitter (primarily twt these days) @cptshellhead</p></blockquote></div></div>
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